


two or three things that remind me of him

by zauberer_sirin



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Car Sex, Developing Relationship, Don't Touch Lola, Established Relationship, F/M, First Kiss, First Time, Future Fic, Happy Ending, Hiatus Feels, POV Skye | Daisy Johnson, Resolved Sexual Tension, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-28
Updated: 2016-09-28
Packaged: 2018-08-18 06:55:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,019
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8153035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zauberer_sirin/pseuds/zauberer_sirin
Summary: Daisy keeps missing Coulson, and the world keeps finding new ways to remind her she misses him.
(Post 4x01)





	

**one.**

The first time it happens is somebody in front of her adjusting his tie a little too formal. He’s wearing a light gray suit. She doesn’t know what bothers her about it until hours later, when she has spent half the day irritated for no particular reason. Or not irritated but… haunted, in a way. She feels a bit embarrassed when she realizes what’s happened, but she pushes it out of her mind easily. In those first days she’s still too haunted by other things - her body too busy pushing out the last chemical traces of Hive - and she still feels resolved enough to shut it out.

Then comes the Gas Station incident, as Daisy likes to call it. She knows it’s just a coincidence - unfortunate, but a coincidence, for god’s sake, girl, get a grip - that someone has arranged the Grab A Bite display so that the red vines are just besides the Little Debbie cupcakes, but Daisy feels like leaving without paying rather than stand in line in front of that personal offense. In the end she ends up buying the stupid junk food for herself, and it’s one of her lowest moments, eating them while driving a stolen (from bad guys but still... stolen) car.

Cars are the worst - some days it takes the make, or the color, in the bad days even just any old model will make her turn around. The guy she buys her new van from - cash, no questions, bless third rate dealerships with some things to hide themselves - has a small classic cars section. He even has, like it’s fate or something, though Daisy doesn’t believe in that, a 1962 Corvette. It’s black, not red. Small mercies. It throws her off her game for the rest of the day. She realizes she should probably do something about this before it becomes a problem. A guy dressed in a particular suit, a car, a piece of jazz she catches in the radio, a stupid chocolate bar. She needs to stop.

Of course classic, cars, red cars, whatever, bring her the memory of the bumpy ride from Peru, and how relieved she had been to see that Lola was intact even after Daisy had blown a hole in the plane. She didn’t know much about Coulson back then but she knew the guy loved that car - she couldn’t blame him, it was a beautiful car. It is a beautiful car, wherever she is. Of course thinking about Peru always gets her thinking about Coulson saying “it’s classified” to her, gets her thinking about his voice, and she misses his voice the most.Her world seems too quiet without his voice in it.

 

 

**two.**

She tells him they are not friends anymore, just work colleagues. She tells him she made a mistake before, letting people get close.

He accepts it, because he’s Coulson.

He learns the unwritten rules. Agent Johnson, he learns to call her. By not looking at him whenever they separate to go on a dangerous mission Daisy teaches him not to look at her. That’s the hardest part, she suspects, for both of them. Learning how not to turn around one more time as they leave.

One day he enters the common room when she is there and he freezes, like she has forbidden him from being alone with her. Maybe she has, she is not sure. There’s something off about him today and it takes her a moment to realize what. He’s wearing a suit, and a tie. She feels a pang of loneliness, like she is still out there on the road, on her own. She ends up missing Coulson even though he’s in front her right now. She’s made sure of it.

She hasn’t seen him in a suit in a long time (she remembers exactly the last time she saw him in a suit. Isn’t it sad?) and she finds herself staring a bit. Coulson catches her and is about to react, remembering he’s not supposed to share anything other than mission intel with her, remembering just in time. Then the Director comes in, mumbles something about some diplomatic meeting and Coulson’s “old friends”, a contact from the CIA, and he takes Coulson away from the room, drags him, Coulson almost turns his head, almost.

 

+

 

On one of those occasions when one of them leaves for a dangerous mission and Daisy refuses to say goodbye Coulson actually gets hurt and she watches him get shot and half-bleed to death from the other side of a security feed, the image on the screen grainy and green.

Afterwards she doesn’t go see him in the medbay, that’s how resolved she is. And how cruel.

Mack takes care of him while he recovers. Daisy is glad Coulson has him, Mack is a good partner, even though she admits to being jealous of both sides, which is unfair. She catches Mack in the kitchen, trying to find something for Coulson to eat. The new layout of the cupboards is absurd, and the new Director has gotten rid of most of the inappropriate starches Coulson likes. Mack decides, wisely, that perhaps he should just get some cereal.

“Bring him those,” Daisy says, pointing at a brand she knows Coulson favors.

“These?” Mack inspects the box. “These are… not good for you.”

He’s not exactly wrong. They’re very sugary. Sweet tooth, Daisy thinks fondly.

“Trust me, he’ll like those.”

Mack gives her a skeptical look - not about the cereal, skeptical about her whole attitude. She won’t talk to Coulson, she won’t go see him while he is recovering, but she can’t resist helping Mack choose food for him. She can see why her former partner would judge her.

But then his eyes soften and there’s nothing judgy about his expression.

“You know we’re here for you, right, Tremors?” he says, bold, because she shot him down the last time he tried to use her nickname. “When you’re ready,”

It’s not a question of being ready, she wants to say. This is how things are now.

 

+

 

When things go back to normal and he has completely recovered from his wound she still doesn’t talk to him.

She keeps expecting him to become frustrated and snap at her, tell her that it’s just as well, since she doesn’t deserve his friendship after all. He doesn’t. Because he’s Coulson.

Late one night she hears noises in the garage. They are not alarming noises or anything, and she knows she should leave it alone, she’s just exposing herself to people, instead of just keep her own company as she vowed.

She’s not surprised to find Coulson is making those noises.

He is working in Lola, that’s how much she can gather. He is wearing old jeans and white t-shirt, tools in his hand, and Lola is missing one wheel and there’s a bottle of beer by Coulson’s side as he kneels to see the underside. He looks up when he hears Daisy coming, and waits for her to speak first (he always waits for her to speak first these days, another unwritten rule of his own making).

“Is there something wrong with her?” Daisy asks, hugging herself, suddenly unable to bear the idea of something bad happening to Lola.

“No, she’s fine,” he replies, taking a sip from the bottle. “I just thought I’d do some maintenance works.”

Daisy raises an eyebrow, treading the dangerous arena of the familiar.

“Maintenance. At two in the morning?”

To his credit Coulson seems a bit exhausted for a moment when she says that. Then it’s gone.

“It’s just something to do to kill time,” he says, heavily enough that is evident what he needs a distraction from.

“You must think this is so unfair,” Daisy finally says, breaking that other rule: never speak about their situation. She’s been wanting Coulson to say something, anything, for weeks, to get angry at her, to tell her she’s wrong, that she’s being selfish. To ask her not to push him away.

Coulson frowns in that way of his she has missed - a lot.

“What? No, Daisy, no. What happened _to you_ was unfair,” he says, struggling to sound firm when he is on his knees and looking up. “If you think not talking to me will help… I’m happy to shut up.”

She stares at him, hardly believing his words.

She comes closer, crouching besides Coulson to inspect what he’s doing.

He shifts a bit to make room. This is the closest they have been, physically, since she came back. She can hear his breathing and smell the beer in it.

“So, what are you working on?” she asks.

“Mm, well. This wheel doesn’t turn all the way,” Coulson explains. “In flight it could unbalance the whole car.”

Daisy smiles.

“Do you have any idea what you’re doing at all?” she asks. She has always suspected everything Coulson knows about how cars work he learned when he was eight. Lola basically drives herself, no expertise needed at all.

“I have _some_ idea,” he says, pride wounded. He leaves the tools on the floor and chuckles.

Daisy laughs with him, until she starts sobbing. She’s missed him so damn much, and she’s ruined everything. He can never forgive her for these last couple of months, can he. He shouldn’t.

“No, no, don’t cry,” Coulson says, lifting one hand quickly, wrapping his fingers around the back of her neck and pulling Daisy against his chest. “Don’t, Daisy, don’t.”

Everything smells of motor oil, and underneath Coulson’s particular scent. Daisy didn’t know she knew how he smelled until her days stopped having that familiar scent. She grabs his t-shirt, trying to get more of it, his smell.

“Don’t,” she tells him. 

“Don’t what?”

“Shut up. Don’t ever shut up. I love your voice,” Daisy says, kissing his mouth.

Coulson makes a falling noise and starts kissing her back, crawling closer until she is practically between his legs.

Everything happens very fast - which is weird because everything had been so slow in her life, for months. And now she is opening Lola’s door and climbing in, gesturing for Coulson to do the same. The physics of it are uncomfortable, off-putting, but she is not put off. She manages to get rid of her pajama pants before Coulson has finished climbing into the passenger seat. Coulson grabs her by the neck and kisses her again, pushing his tongue inside her mouth desperately. 

“Daisy,” he says, breathlessly when he breaks the kiss, like he’s relieved to be allowed to use her name again, after all these weeks of _Agent Johnson_. His eyes drink her in, too, after a long time of having to look away. Daisy feels like she might start sobbing again any moment, because she’s been such a fool and she has hurt Coulson further when all she had ever wanted was protect him.

She undoes his jeans and wraps her hand around his cock and he’s already almost completely hard. He doesn’t break eye contact as she gets him there, or as she lowers herself on him, watching her face all the time.

“Is this okay? Am I hurting you?” she asks when she starts moving, kicking herself mentally for not having gone to see him when he was hurt.

“Why would you be hurting me?”

She tilts her head. “You were _shot_.”

“It’s okay. It healed completely, I heal fast.”

She knows, and sometimes she wonders about it. She thinks about them having the same alien stuff in their blood.

He lifts his hands to her sides, her breasts, kissing her and biting her lips, her neck. Daisy has never felt so- _needed_.

She starts moving faster on top of him. She wants to make it last (normally it’s the opposite, she wants sex to be over quickly so she can skip to the part where she has the person, where she is not alone) but she can’t go slow. She backs on all those lonely nights in cheap motels, and sleeping in her van, and what she was missing was this. She was missing something that had never even happened.

Coulson cups her head, holding her up to his gaze.

“God, Daisy, I’ve missed you so much,” he says, like he’s the only one.

He really has no idea, does he?

She comes, too aroused or too desperate for him, to need any help. She digs her fingers into Coulson’s shoulders to ask him to stop moving for a moment, and he does. He just holds her for a moment, kissing her face and repeating how much he’s missed her.

 

 

**three.**

He’s three hours late - which means the meeting went over, for an hour or so, and traffic did the rest.

“I don’t know why I thought being Inhuman Liaison for SHIELD was going to be less of a pain in the ass than being Director,” he says wearily. She knows he actually likes the job, it’s the constant meeting and the coming and going which he detests.

“I could have tell you that,” Daisy replies as welcome.

He leaves his jacket on the couch and starts undoing the tie, having obvious problems, like it always happens when he gets a new model of prosthetic. This one is less combat-oriented but it’s more advanced in everyday stuff, like having more sensitivity - Daisy doesn’t think Coulson really explained the lab technicians why he wanted more sensitivity in his hand, why that was important for everyday tasks.

She gently pushes his hands away and finishes loosening the tie with her own fingers, and taking it off.

“Thank you,” he tells her.

“It’s nice seeing you in a suit again from time to time.”

“Really?” Coulson asks, surprised. _He_ prefers the informal style, would probably sleep in jeans if they let him.

Daisy flattens her palms against the lapels of his jacket.

“Of course. I always had a thing for guys in suits.”

“Liar,” he says, kissing her lips.

 

+

 

“Is it dangerous?” he asks.

“Which mission isn’t?” Daisy replies, snorting like a rookie, getting her sidearm from the armoury.

Coulson watches as she finishes preparing, a frown of worry on his face. She knows that expression well, except it’s become more open, more personal, in the last couple of years.

“I wish I could go,” he says, touching her arm for a moment.

“Me too,” she confesses, because, after all, he is a good asset to have on the field with her. She appreciates him as an agent, apart from, well, everything else. She feels safer when he is on the other side of her comms, and watching her back. “But you have that thing in New York. You need to focus on that.”

She grabs his shoulder and squeezes. She knows he sometimes wonders if what he’s doing is important, and he’s happier when he gets to be on the field, but he really is helping. Meeting with health experts to elaborate a protocol for hospitals that ensures the privacy of Inhumans is a big thing, she needs Coulson to have his head in the game.

“Okay, but I got you something for the trip,” he says. He grabs something from his bag and pushes it into her hand.

Daisy looks at the pack of red vines. They are too many, obviously, but Phil is Phil.

“I’ll miss you,” she mutters, without meaning.

He hears her, and wraps an arm around her back, pulling her against him.

“Don’t think about that,” he says, kissing her temple for the briefest second, like a breath. “Don’t think about me at all. Just concentrate on staying safe.”

But thinking about him helps her stay safe, Daisy wants to say. She nods, holding the snack tightly in her hand. She’s never been reckless, but lately she has an extra reason to be careful.

 

+

 

She feels a gentle touch on her cheek. When she opens her eyes Phil is brushing his thumb across it and the car’s stopped. She looks around, they’re in a gas station and it’s suddenly and incomprehensibly night, the harsh lights of the place the only thing separating them from complete darkness.

“You fell asleep,” Phil states the obvious.

“Sorry.”

“You should be,” he tells her, pursing his lips in a fake pout. “You said you’d help me with the directions.”

“Coulson,” she says, still using his surname half the time even when alone because she’s so used to it when they’re at work. “Don’t be ridiculous, Lola has GPS.”

He shrugs, turning off the engine.

“Okay, fine, but I was lonely while you were asleep.”

Daisy smiles. He comes up with this stuff even after all these years. Just like that.

“I like that,” she says. He frowns. “No, no, I don’t like that you’re lonely. I like that you… you know, miss me.”

Phil gives her an easy smile and reaches across the seat to kiss her softly.

“It’s still a few hours until we get there,” he says. There being a safehouse in the middle of the woods (no, not the woods she once totalled, she never wants to go back there and Phil knows it). It’s the first real vacation of her life. Even if it’s still on SHIELD property. “I’m going to grab some supplies.”

He opens the door and gets out of the car.

“Get me something sweet,” Daisy tells him. “I’ll take care of Lola.”

He nods. “I know. You always do.”

He walks around the car, close enough that Daisy can reach her hand and grab the sleeve of his jacket.

“Hey,” she calls.

He turns around.

“What?”

“Don’t be long,” Daisy asks him. 

She thinks Phil is going to make fun of her - because she still thinks she’s somewhat embarrassing; she likes needing him so much, but it doesn’t look very cool from the outside - but he doesn’t. He takes her hand in his and gives it a little squeeze before letting go.

“Of course,” he says. “I’ll be right back.”

Daisy and Lola wait for him, missing him already. It’s easier not having to wait alone.


End file.
